


Special Delivery

by 0_yngve



Series: Lavender [6]
Category: Mumintroll | Moomins Series - Tove Jansson
Genre: Autistic Snusmumriken | Snufkin, Chronic Illness, Chronic Pain, Congenital Disability, Congenital Illness, Disability, Disabled Character, Disabled Snusmumriken | Snufkin, Gen, Physical Disability, Post-Book 9: Sent i november | Moominvalley in November, Single Parent AU, Single Parent Snusmumriken | Snufkin, Trans Snusmumriken | Snufkin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-09
Updated: 2020-07-09
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:40:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25155616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/0_yngve/pseuds/0_yngve
Summary: Moomintroll saw something on his night-stand. His bleary mind slowly connected the events of the previous day. Snufkin had…
Relationships: Mumintrollet | Moomintroll & Snusmumriken | Snufkin, Snusmumriken & Original Character(s), Snusmumriken | Snufkin & Sisu (Moomins OC)
Series: Lavender [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1798096
Comments: 2
Kudos: 33





	Special Delivery

**Author's Note:**

> May 1956

All Snufkin did was take some feverfew. He kept it out of Sisu’s reach so they wouldn’t accidentally eat it, meaning his pack was up on top of the living room bookshelf. He turned around to grab a bud to chew on to soothe the pain in his ankle.

He only turned around for a second.

A second was all it took.

Sisu had scampered up two flights of stairs, dashed into Moomintroll’s bedroom, and clawed giant gashes in his sheets.

That was the sight Snufkin found: destroyed bed sheets spilled over the floor and Sisu writhing in Moomintroll’s arms, three small scratches on his snout.

Snufkin, still out of breath from his sprint up-stairs, managed a horrified gasp.

“Sisu!”

He ran forward and pried his child away from Moomintroll. He set them down and stood up, ignoring the tugging on the hem of his coat.

He met Moomintroll’s eyes, mortified by the wound on his white fur.

“I am so, _so_ sorry, Moomintroll. They—they never do this. I don’t know what happened. Are you okay?” Snufkin balled up the wool of his coat in his paws to keep himself from reaching out. “Does it hurt?”

Moomintroll shook his head, an expression Snufkin couldn’t read on his face.

He never understood Moomintroll anymore.

He turned his attention to the person he always understood.

“Why did you do this?” Snufkin put his paws on his hips.

Sisu’s ears drooped.

“The Moomins have very generously welcomed us into their home, and you’ve destroyed their sheets—how would you feel if Moomintroll destroyed our tent? Or blanket? Or your toys?”

Snufkin gestured, his frustration flung out of his fingertips. “And you _scratched_ him? You know that’s un-acceptable! We do not hurt any-one except police officers and park keepers.”

Snufkin crouched down to Sisu’s height. An audible _pop_ burst. Snufkin’s eye twitched. He squeezed his hip.

“What do you think you should say?” 

Sisu kept pouting.

“Can you apologize to Moomintroll?”

Sisu frowned.

“Sisu.”

“’M sorry I tore your sheets.” Sisu kept their eyes on their feet.

“And?”

“…And for clawing your face.”

The mumrik rested his paw on their shoulder. He gave Moomintroll a look: apologetic but expectant.

“Apology accepted.”

Snufkin’s eyes softened.

The mumrik stood up with a quiet grunt escaping him and gave Sisu a small smile. “Could you go downstairs and ask Moominmamma if she has any matching thread? This yellow-white?”

Sisu nodded and walked out the open doorway, their shoulders sagging.

Snufkin pinched the bridge of his nose. “I am so sorry, Moomintroll. I ca—It’s so hard to keep track of them. I swear, I only looked away for a moment.”

“It’s okay.”

“They’re just so fast, and I can’t always keep up—”

“It’s okay.”

“It won’t happen again, though, I—”

“Snufkin.”

The mumrik stopped his rambling.

“It’s okay.” Moomintroll smiled. “Sisu’s four. They’re a four-year-old mumrik. These things happen.”

Snufkin’s shoulders relaxed.

“We have some spare sheets in the Room-For-Everything,” Moomintroll continued. “I’ll just grab some from there.”

Snufkin grimaced and nodded.

He licked his lips, still holding his hip. He opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened it again.

“I—”

Sisu padded back into the room, a spool of cream-colored thread in her paws. Snufkin snapped his mouth shut and bent down to accept the thread.

“Thank you, little one.”

Snufkin looked up.

“Moomintroll?”

Moomintroll hummed.

Snufkin chewed his lip. “Can I take the sheets?”

Moomintroll furrowed his brow.

“It’s okay if you don’t want me too,” Snufkin added. “It’s just that kids grow so quickly, you know, and I need to size up their clothes.”

Moomintroll shook his head. “Uh—yeah, sure. Go ahead.”

Snufkin gathered the shredded fabric in his arm and, with a final nod, left the room with Sisu in tow.

* * *

When the sun began to sag, Snufkin poured two bowls of fresh fish stew for him and Sisu and put the child to bed just as the sky began to darken.

Snufkin sat down on a fallen tree beside his campfire and watched the little one sleep through the opened flap in the tent. They were so sweet when they slept.

He sighed.

He picked up the bundled fabric and smoothed it out across his lap. He cracked his neck. Time to get to work.

Snufkin didn’t know how long he worked. All he knew was that every part of his body ached. His eyes stung from the strain of working by the fire-light. His shoulders and back felt like they were being ripped out of his body. He had to tape several swollen joints in his fingers just so he could move them at all. He spent the entire night whip-stitching and darning the cotton sheets, pulling the gashes together. When he finally mattress stitched the last thread off and snipped the thread, his paws were so painful that he couldn’t straighten his fingers.

But his work wasn’t over yet.

Snufkin poured the cotton into his iron pot, cleaned from dinner, and grabbed his small washboard and soap. He carried the load over to the shore of the river and got to work scrubbing until the fur on his paws started to fall out.

He wrung the fabric dry and dumped the river water out of his pot before hanging the sheets up on the clothesline strung between his tent and a low-hanging tree bough.

He managed to spare a few hours curled up beside his child in blissful sleep.

As soon as the light of the sunrise shone into the tent, Snufkin was awake again, pushing through the protests of his creaking body. He took the dried sheets down from the clothesline and carefully folded them, the lines precise.

Now, how to return them to Moomintroll….

Moomintroll had, seemingly long ago, taken down the ladder that led up into his bed-room. He had no reason to keep it—no mid-night adventures or impromptu sleep-overs.

Snufkin tried not to think about that.

He didn’t want to go in through the front door; he was still less than welcome in Moominhouse, met with a cold and distant hospitality.

Snufkin tried not to think about that either.

And he didn’t want to wait until the day to give it to Moomintroll. No matter how much he longed for his companionship and the bond they once shared, he knew the troll didn’t want the same; Snufkin had almost broken the mask of courteous acquaintance he had carefully crafted over the past two years—he couldn’t afford to slip up.

Snufkin couldn’t stop thinking about that.

So sneak in he must, albeit with more difficulty.

It was a painful task, holding the folded sheets in his mouth while using all fours to climb up the veranda onto its awning, and then up the knobby wood of Moominhouse to reach the roof. It made every joint in his shoulders and paws scream, but he needed to get it done.

Moomintroll’s window was left open, as it often was, to let in the cool night air. All Snufkin had to do was jimmy it up a few inches more and squeeze through. He had no problem fitting; he often took small portions or skipped meals so Sisu could eat.

The air was uneasy as Snufkin stood in Moomintroll’s bed-room under the intimacy of dawn. The troll slumbered softly in his plush bed, his pale blue sheets covered with a lovingly crafted quilt. If Snufkin strained, he could hear Moomintroll murmur indistinctly in his sleep.

When they were younger, Snufkin would be welcome to climb into bed beside Moomintroll, curling up beside the round troll and sleeping side by side. Moomintroll would wake up with mild surprise and Snufkin would feign an excuse of boredom, or the weather, or the Groke—all in a way the mumrik now saw as painfully transparent.

Snufkin smoothed out the sheets in his paws one last time before setting them down on the night-stand.

He gave the troll a final gaze before returning into the early morning darkness.

* * *

The cool morning light streamed in through the window of Moomintroll’s bed-room. The troll sighed and stretched, relieving himself of the stiffness garnered through-out the night.

And he saw something on his night-stand. His bleary mind slowly connected the events of the previous day. Snufkin had….

Moomintroll flushed and frowned at the thought of Snufkin sneaking into his room. That hadn’t happened in years.

Moomintroll rested his paw on the folded-up fabric, recognizing it as his ruined sheets. Why had Snufkin given them back?

He held up the sheets to get a fuller picture. They unfurled out beneath his paws, revealing the expanse of cream cotton.

Every single one of the fabric’s tears was meticulously sewn together.

Moomintroll held back a gasp. He ran his fingers over the seams, barely able to feel the stitches. He couldn’t see them at all—how precise was Snufkin’s needlework? How long had this taken?

The troll bunched the sheets up in his paws. They smelled of the soap that Snufkin always used: of lye and ash, but underneath, the delicate scent of sweetpeas. A small smile grew on Moomintroll’s face, as did a warmth in his chest he hadn’t felt in years.

**Author's Note:**

> tumblr @smooth-goat


End file.
